


Growth Season

by o0whitelily0o



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 10:26:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2728937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0whitelily0o/pseuds/o0whitelily0o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunger Games AU - In the interim between his brother's victory and future reapings, there's adjustments that Kazuya isn't sure how to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growth Season

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Art of Pruning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2704565) by [LittleLinor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor). 



Down the hall, a light turns on.

It’s dim, Naoya always keeps it like that, but you can still see it through the crack in your door before you hear the ‘click’ of another one shutting and see the light darken again.

You’ve never really been able to ignore it, but tonight you just can’t get back to sleep knowing he’s up again. Knowing _why_ he’s up again.

You crawl out of bed and sneak down to his study. It’s been over half a year since you were all moved to the Victors’ Village, but you’re still not really used to this house. It’s too big, and too quiet. This neighborhood is nearly empty, and too isolated from the rest of the district, none of the noise you grew up with reaches you.

Although, you kind of doubt having more victors around would make much difference.

You hesitate outside the door. This house isn’t the only change you still aren’t used to. But you’re already here. At least you should try the knob. To your surprise, it turns easily. Even this late, even if he didn’t think anyone was up, he’d definitely lock it if he didn’t want to be bothered. That’s invitation enough for you.

The sight of him at his computer, all hunkered over and so focused he doesn’t even look up when the door opened, is so familiar it hurts. A few years ago you’d just jump at him in his chair, and pester him until he either agreed to play with you or at least show you what he was working on. Even if you didn’t understand all of his explanations, it was fun just to listen to him and watch him work.

Now you knock on the door - lightly, you don’t want anyone else to hear - and call out his name before coming any closer. At that, he does look up. There’s a distracted look in his eyes, but one that’s not exactly surprised.

“Kazuya? It’s late, you should be in bed.”

Not the same as being told to go back. You walk over to him. “So should you.”

“It’s easier to concentrate when everyone else is asleep,” he says, turning back to his screen, “Besides, you still have to go to school.”

“Don’t remind me,” you mutter, squinting at the computer’s bright screen in the dim room, “At least turn the lights on. You’re gonna ruin your eyes like this.”

“This also helps me concentrate.”

A full night’s sleep would probably do more for his concentration than anything else, but you already know there’s no point in saying that. If he could, he would.

“So you’re gonna be up for a while longer, huh?”

“Yes.”

“...Want some tea?”

 _That_ gets his eyes away from his screen and back onto you, with a raised eyebrow thrown in for good measure. “You know how to make it?”

You frown. It’s not like you’re that much of a kid anymore. “It’s just hot water and leaves, right? How hard could it be?”

He breathes out something like a laugh, and shakes his head. “Forget it, I don’t need any. And if you burned yourself, you wouldn’t be allowed near the kitchen again.”

It’s nice to hear, to have his attention, but he’s already starting to drift back into his lines of code. You stand beside his chair, unsure of what to do. The bags under his eyes are even darker by the light of the screen. His face is too pale. His shoulders are so thin. You realize, unsettled, that he looks _fragile_.

It’s stupid, to think of Naoya like that. You’ve seen through videos - in spite of your parents efforts to keep them from you - that he isn’t. He knows almost everything. He can do anything. He stepped into an arena of twenty four people and came back out and came back home. Just the fact that he’s here right now is proof that he isn’t.

But still...

“Is there... anything I _can_ do for you?” You finally ask, not quite looking at him, “It can be whatever, I really don’t mind. I just...” You hear him shift in his chair, but you still don’t look at him as you finally say, “...I love you, you know? I wanna do _something_.”

You keep your eyes very decisively fixed on a spot on his desk. The words are awkward. You’ve said them before, easily, without thinking, but before it was never really something you felt you _needed_ to say. Not to him. Naoya knows almost everything, and you knew he knew that too.

But there’s a lot of things you can’t do easily with him anymore. You can’t read him as well, you can’t touch him as carelessly, you can’t even ask if he’s okay because you already know the real answer and the answer he’ll give you are different and you don’t want to make him lie to you. And you understand that it’s a part of his life he can’t share with you - even in the videos, you saw so little of what he did and what was done to him - but if you can’t do any of those things, then he might not know anymore. You don’t want him to be unsure about that, not ever, not after everything he did just to come back to you.

A hand against your hair startles you out of your thoughts. You glance at him. His expression hasn’t changed much, and you don’t know what to make of how it has.

“It’s alright. It’s already enough,” he says, voice and touch both soft, “You should go back to bed, Kazuya.”

You let him pet your hair a little while longer before you finally nod and give up for the night. You just don’t know what else to do. You didn’t want to be comforted, you wanted to comfort him. Even if he says it’s alright the way it is, you can’t agree. The way it is is just too frustrating.

When you’re older, you resolve, you’ll understand him better. You’ll figure out what to do for him when he can’t sleep, or spends days without going anywhere but his room or study, or comes back from interviews silent and cold.

But right now, as you close the door behind you, all you really know is that you’d do anything for him. Just like he’d do for you.


End file.
